


Before You're In The Stars

by Lurlur



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Andromeda Myth, Blood, Blood and Injury, But not the laws of physics apparently, Coercion, Cutting, Dubious Consent, Frottage, Hemipenes, Human Sacrifice, M/M, Mythology References, Really Big Snake, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Sex with Snake Form Crowley (Good Omens), Size Difference, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Snex (snake sex), Taking liberties with Greek mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24366337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/Lurlur
Summary: There's a sea monster terrorising a far off land and Aziraphale has been sent to deal with it. The particulars of the assignment are vague so perhaps he can be forgiven for taking some liberties!A very loose, smutty reimagining of the Andromeda myth involving snex (snake sex).
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 226
Collections: MoFu Birthdays





	Before You're In The Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glitterandtrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterandtrash/gifts).



> Happy birthday to the incredible Rel! I have attempted to express my love through weird snex, just for you!

"There really is no need to be quite so rough!” Aziraphale cries as he lurches forward, a firm shove between the shoulder blades almost knocking him down. “I’m not resisting, after all!”

The men escorting him don’t answer; they haven’t spoken to him at all during their journey and Aziraphale can’t imagine that any of them plan to change that before they part ways. He can bear the silence far better than the repeated pushes that make him stumble and trip over his sandals.

Aziraphale had enjoyed the walk from the city to the shore on several occasions during his stay in the area, but this time there’s nothing pleasurable about it. His hands are bound at the wrist with coarse rope, one end trailing ahead to where it wraps around the fist of the executioner.

With his patience wearing thin, Aziraphale struggles to remember that he is a being of infinite love. These men have a difficult job to do within a society that demands their conformity. Aziraphale can and does find it within himself to forgive them and pray for their souls just as they approach the cliffs.

Despite having been an exemplary prisoner, the men still treat Aziraphale roughly as they position him against the sea-smooth face of a large rock, pulling him around by his elbows and kicking at his feet until he puts them where they want.

They flank him and pin his upper arms to the rock as the executioner unties the rope around his wrists. Aziraphale tuts at the sight of the red, raw skin there, weeping where the rope has rubbed it rawat him. There really wasn’t any need for this kind of treatment.

Knowing that he could knock them all aside with one sweep of his arm, Aziraphale lets the men secure his arms with the iron shackles and makes a little show of testing the strength of the bolts driven into the rock face.

“This is all rather unnecessary,” Aziraphale mutters, mostly to himself, “I  _ volunteered _ for this.”

The men grow agitated and begin to confer between themselves, leaving Aziraphale to wonder who among them has lost a child or sibling to this over the years. Their city isn’t that large after all- perhaps no one has escaped being touched by grief and tragedy.

Finally, the executioner steps forward and takes a knife from his belt. Aziraphale lifts his chin in defiance- the one thing he won’t be is scared. The blade bites into the neck of his tunic and slices down, baring him to the waist. Two more slashes part the fabric of his sleeves and the remnants of his clothing are torn from his body, leaving him naked.

He hisses with pain as the knife scores a deep gash down the length of his calf. Blood wells up in the wound and spills onto the rocky ground. The executioner wipes the blade clean on the tatters of Aziraphale’s tunic and tucks it back into the sheath at his waist. With nothing more than a nod to acknowledge Aziraphale, he begins to make his way back to the city. The other men hesitate for a moment, uneasy with what they must do, but there’s nothing left for them except the walk back home heavy with the knowledge that they have condemned Aziraphale to his fate.

They are out of his sight almost immediately, heading inland while he is forced to stare out to sea and await whatever will come. He has his suspicions, but until he sees it himself he can’t be sure.

Of all his recent assignments from Heaven, this is by far the most disagreeable. Even worse than convincing that bloody great whale to swallow Jonah and then having to follow it for three days while listening for his repentance. He would rather do that a hundred times over than spend his time with humans who habitually sacrifice their loved ones to a terrible beast. 

Ostensibly, he’s here to thwart the sea monster and encourage the humans towards goodness. As unpleasant as it is, he can achieve this best as a volunteer sacrifice. Besides, he’s got his suspicions about whose path he’s about to cross,  _ again _ . It’s well beyond coincidence by this point, and that alone makes him wonder about what the Plan is.

That, Aziraphale supposes as he watches the distant waves, is the whole point of ineffability. Questioning these things is frowned upon at best, harshly punished at worst, and Aziraphale rather thinks he’s being punished enough right now, without having done anything to earn it.

Water splashes against his feet as the tide rises, tinged pink where it mingles with his blood, stinging the raw flesh of his open wound. Gingerly, he lifts his injured leg out of the water to try to protect it. A fresh flow of blood pours from the cut and the water is only getting higher.

A flash of movement far out towards the horizon, catches Aziraphale’s attention. The sun is still high, glinting off the blue waters and warming the skin of Aziraphale’s shoulders to angry redness. It makes it difficult to see the distant surface, but now that he’s looking more intently he can make out the occasional shadow moving in an unnatural manner.

With the waves now lapping at his knees, Aziraphale can no longer hold his injury above the cruel bite of the salt water. The agony from his leg refuses to ease and he can see the trickle of blood flowing away from him like smoke. The dark shape near the horizon has been still for some minutes; Aziraphale begins to wonder if he’d been imagining it, or seeing some trick of the light.

He’s wondering how much longer he should wait before he can release himself, heal the wound and just call the assignment a failure when movement catches his eye once more. It’s under the water this time, going fast enough to cut through the surface and leave a swirling trail in its wake. As it gets closer, Aziraphale can make out the way that it undulates its long body to drive itself forward.

Oh yes, there’s something distinctly serpentine about this sea monster. Despite everything about his situation: the nudity, the open wound, the iron manacles, and the rising tide, Aziraphale begins to relax. There’s no reason he can think of for this to get any worse from this point.

Stopping just short of the cliffs, the monster breaches the surface and looms over Aziraphale, showering him with a rather refreshing mist of seawater. The gleaming head of a gigantic serpent towers over Aziraphale, sparkling with rivulets of water that run down obsidian and ruby scales.

“Hello, Crowley,” Aziraphale says pleasantly.

The serpent brings its head lower, fixing Aziraphale with a cold, yellow stare.

“Angel,” Crowley says, his voice deeper than when Aziraphale last heard it.

“I thought it might be you causing all this drama,” Aziraphale keeps his tone light, friendly, wrapping his accusation in a certain familiar fondness. “I don’t suppose you could be prevailed upon to knock it off, could you?”

Crowley laughs and the water leaps around him, disturbed by the booming reverberation of his long body.

“Not for nothing, no,” he replies. His tongue flickers out to taste the air. “They leave me such pretty presents, I’d need a  _ very _ good reason to give that up.”

Aziraphale sighs and lets his head drop forward. He really would prefer to just talk this out, perhaps over a decent jug of wine and a platter of the good olives. Alas, Crowley is being difficult and there’s only one way to get through to Crowley when he’s like this.

With a single, sharp tug, Aziraphale pulls the bolts out of the rock. The iron manacles shatter in his hands, one after the other, and he stands unfettered in the now waist-deep water. He squares his shoulders and gazes up into Crowley’s unblinking eyes with a resolve far stronger than any earthly material.

“I suppose I shall have to stop you myself, then.”

Lightning fast, Crowley strikes, lifting and pinning Aziraphale’s body against the rock with one of his sleek coils. His arms are trapped at his sides and his legs dangle uselessly. A human body would struggle to draw breath, and Aziraphale has to remind himself remember that he doesn’t need it to keep himself from panicking.

“Is that so?” Crowley mocks him, his head swaying from side to side in pleasure. “Do let me know when you plan to start.”

Struggling against the solid mass of Crowley’s body is pointless, Aziraphale can’t get any leverage against the rock and the small amount of movement he can make is just grazing his back on the rough surface.

“What do you want, Crowley? Clearly you have the upper hand \-- ” --Crowley chuckles and Aziraphale feels the sound of it in his bones-- “ \-- you know what I mean! You _ are _ tiresome sometimes.”

“You know what I want.” Crowley manages to shift ever so slightly, dragging his damp scales against Aziraphale’s groin. “Same thing I always want from you, only now I’ve got collateral.”

If Aziraphale didn’t know any better, and he doesn’t, he’d swear that Crowley is smiling with his enormous snakey mouth. It’s deeply unsettling.

“Despicable, vile creature,” Aziraphale spits, his lip curling in disgust, “you would have me debase myself, serve your lowest desires, in exchange for these humans’ lives?”

“Yes,” Crowley says simply. Aziraphale can almost see the shrug that would accompany that answer if he had been in possession of shoulders.

Heat squirms low in his abdomen, knowing how Crowley wants him, the lengths he’ll go to in order to get what he wants, it’s far more arousing than Aziraphale thinks it should be.

“If I refuse?” he asks, although he’s sure he knows the answer.

Crowley gives him an appraising look, making a point of assessing Aziraphale’s current position, the still rising tide, and the remaining masses of Crowley’s body that could snatch at him even if he managed to get away.

“What do you think?” There would most definitely have been a lifted eyebrow alongside that question, Aziraphale knows. “I certainly won’t stop terrorising this coastline and collecting my, ha,  _ gifts. _ ”

“Can I have your word that you’ll leave them in peace if I-” Aziraphale falters, struggling to give voice to what he’s considering. “If I agree?”

“Oh yes, scout’s honour,” Crowley says, once again wearing that serpentine smile.

Aziraphale can’t help but doubt the snake. Deception and temptation are what flow within him; he can’t change his nature any more than Aziraphale can change his. It simply means that making deals with Crowley is a calculated risk at best. Unfortunately, calculus hasn’t been invented yet and Aziraphale will never particularly care for it, even when it does come around.

“Very well, until sunrise tomorrow and not a moment longer.” Aziraphale nods as if he’s in a position to negotiate terms. It’s all in the confidence. “Is that agreeable?”

“Immensely,” Crowley grins.

In one fluid movement he pulls away from the rock, letting Aziraphale fall into the water, as his head swoops low and fast to snatch Aziraphale’s body up in his jaws, water draining out between his teeth as he swims away.

Thankfully, Crowley keeps his head above the water as he swims back to whatever unspeakable lair he has claimed for himself. Unfortunately, his slender ribbon of a tongue is constantly flicking in and out of his mouth, dragging over Aziraphale’s naked cock each time. It’s got him hard and aching in an embarrassingly short time.

Lying face down between Crowley’s jaws, with little more than his head and feet sticking out of either side, Aziraphale is painfully aware of how his erection presses into the soft floor of Crowley’s mouth. He shifts to try and ease the pressure only to feel a tingle of pleasure rush through his body. Crowley chuckles around him, knowing and pleased, creating a rumbling sensation that Aziraphale can’t help but press himself into.

A mile or so down the coast, Crowley draws in close to the base of the cliffs before diving fully underwater. Aziraphale has only a moment to panic that they are heading straight into the cliffs when Crowley surfaces again in a hidden cave.

Spluttering and dripping wet, Aziraphale falls a short distance from Crowley’s mouth onto the dry ledge of rock.

“There was no need to  _ drop _ me, Crowley!” Aziraphale protests.

His hands automatically move to straighten or adjust the clothing he’s no longer wearing. As Crowley slithers out of the water, Aziraphale finds that he can’t decide on anywhere suitable for his hands. A blush rises on his cheeks and spreads down his neck and chest.

“Nervous, angel?” Crowley asks, circling him with his endlessly long body.

“Of course not, Crowley, don’t be absurd!” Aziraphale lies.

He’s never seen Crowley in quite so  _ imposing _ a form, and the thought of all that power and muscle is more daunting than Aziraphale is prepared to admit. Now fully out of the water, Crowley’s entire length is visible and laying in loose coils that surround Aziraphale in a way that makes him think too much of how cats play with mice.

The large, wedge-shaped head rests on the highest point of Crowley’s coils and fixes Aziraphale with a steady gaze. That slender and disarmingly quick tongue flickers out, tickling him with the forked tip.

“Are you going to change shape or size or  _ anything _ ?” Aziraphale asks, trying to sound exasperated more than intimidated. “I doubt I can be much use to you with this much of a size difference.”

Crowley’s eyes flash with mischief and his snakey grin grows wider.

“I do love a challenge,” Crowley says, flicking out his tongue once more. “I think I can rise to it.”

With a growing feeling of trepidation, Aziraphale watches Crowley rearrange his sleek body, fairly hypnotised by the way the muscles push against each other. When he’s done, Aziraphale is faced with the ruby-scaled underside of Crowley’s tail, the opening of his vent gaping slightly.

A nudge at his back pushes Aziraphale towards it, Crowley’s snout urging him on.

“You know what I like,” Crowley says simply.

And it’s true, Aziraphale knows just how to please Crowley in this shape. He’s just never had to deal with it on this scale before. He reaches out, tentatively, and presses his palms against the cool, smooth expanse of Crowley’s underside.

It takes a few strokes down Crowley’s tail to work out how much pressure he wants, but Aziraphale isn’t afraid of putting his back into it. They won’t hurt each other like this, that’s a lesson that was learned quite some time ago. He rubs along the scales, pressing hard into the sensitive spots that make Crowley hiss with pleasure.

By the time that Crowley’s hemipenes erupt from his vent, Aziraphale’s own erection has flagged from lack of attention. The sight of Crowley’s arousal, evidence of the effect that the ministrations of his hands have on the giant serpent, serves to reinvigorate his ardour.

“There you are,” Aziraphale’s voice is breathy with awe.

Each of Crowley’s cocks is the length of Aziraphale’s torso and about as thick around as the widest part of his thigh. As much as he’s enjoyed taking them before, there’s no way he’s even going to consider letting Crowley attempt penetration like this.

Crowley chuckles somewhere off to Aziraphale’s right and he has a brief moment of panic at the thought that Crowley can read his mind.

“Relax, I don’t feel like breaking physics today,” Crowley says, doing nothing to convince Aziraphale that he isn’t reading his thoughts. “I’m sure you can work out something to please us both.”

Reaching one hand out to stroke the textured surface of Crowley’s cocks, Aziraphale finds that he does indeed have the beginnings of an idea. Using his not inconsiderable strength, he moves Crowley’s tail around until he can bring his body flush with the twin lengths, his own cock just resting against the junction of Crowley’s hemipenes.

“Oh, you clever thing,” Crowley gasps, wriggling his tail in tight little movements to rock against Aziraphale’s body.

“I have my moments,” Aziraphale admits.

He wraps his arms around both of Crowley’s shafts, bringing them together and stroking them as one. A sound of pleasure escapes from the mouth of his scaled lover, encouraging him on.

Aziraphale adores making Crowley feel like this, pouring all of his attention into bringing him joy and ecstasy. It might be the most satisfying thing he knows to do.

With his feet firmly on the smooth floor of the cave, Aziraphale moves his arms up and down the combined shafts of Crowley’s cocks, listening to the gasps, hisses, and moans that tell him all he needs to know about how his attention is being received. The writhing end of Crowley’s tail helps elongate his strokes, fucking into the circle of his embrace.

Aziraphale’s own erection is nestled at the base of Crowley’s cocks, enveloped in the heat of his arousal. His hips push forward, apparently of their own accord, sending ripples of urgent pleasure into his core.

“Yesssssssssss!” Crowley hisses in delight.

His cool snout presses against the small of Aziraphale’s back, encouraging him to keep moving. Aziraphale doesn’t need any encouragement, but the explicit approval pleases him immensely. He thrusts into the tight space and strokes Crowley at a steadily increasing pace, feeling the pleasure building in a coiling heat low in his belly.

“You filthy angel, look at you.” Crowley’s voice is right behind him, making Aziraphale feel watched. “You’re going to get off on this, aren’t you? You’re going to come from rubbing against me.”

Aziraphale doesn’t answer, he doesn’t trust his voice to behave when he’s this close to his climax. It feels incredible to be rutting between Crowley’s immense, hard cocks. Shifting just a little, Aziraphale brings his mouth to the head of one cock, licking wetly across the slit and kissing his way across to the other one so it can share in his attention.

“Oh fuck, yes, Aziraphale!” Crowley cries, sounding as wrecked as Aziraphale feels. “Do that again, just like that.”

Delighted, Aziraphale licks across both heads with a flat swipe of his tongue that makes Crowley twitch against him. The first taste of Crowley’s impending climax spreads through Aziraphale’s eager mouth and he begins to suck wet kisses onto the sensitive cocks. His own release is growing more urgent, pressing at him as he rocks them both together and fucks into the tight heat between Crowley’s cocks.

The thin ribbon of Crowley’s tongue flicks out to stroke between Aziraphale’s legs, caressing his testes and drawing along the sensitive skin of his asshole. That’s all it takes to send Aziraphale over the edge. He begins to spill, slick and wet, into the space between Crowley’s impossibly hard cocks. His rhythm falters but his grip strengthens as he clings on for support, squeezing Crowley’s orgasm from him in a way that surprises them both.

With his lips still pressed to one slit, Aziraphale finds his mouth filled at once. He pulls his face away and swallows on reflex just before a second spurt hits him under the chin. Still clinging to Crowley’s cocks, Aziraphale does his best to ease then both through the crests of pleasure, even as thick globs of come coat his arms and chest. He shivers out the last of his climax just as Crowley seems to melt into a boneless puddle of rope, humming happily.

“Knew you could do it,” Crowley says, sounding proud and blissful. “Wow.” Aziraphale peels himself away from Crowley and wipes his face enough to be able to open his eyes. Crowley has to bury his snout under a coil to keep from laughing, his body still shakes with it. “Made a bit of a mess of you, I see.”

Aziraphale is about to miracle himself clean when Crowley lashes out with almost half his body, sweeping Aziraphale off his feet and into the water at the mouth of the cave. He plunges deep but the water is not cold and he keeps his composure as much as anyone unceremoniously dumped into water can.

When he surfaces, running his hands over his face and hair, most of the mess is gone. Crowley is sitting on the ledge, looking much more like his usual self, and kicking his feet in the water in a carefree manner that Aziraphale adores.

“Was that really necessary?” Aziraphale asks whilst trying to pout through a pleased smile.

“Looked like you could do with a refreshing dip,” Crowley says with a shrug and a grin, “got you clean though, didn’t it?”

Aziraphale pouts again, treading water and drifting closer to where Crowley is sitting. He’s about to reach for Crowley’s ankle to yank him down into the water as well when Crowley swings his legs up out of reach and offers Aziraphale his hand.

Just a little disappointed at having had his revenge foiled, Aziraphale takes Crowley’s hand and climbs out of the water.

“What now?” Aziraphale asks, “Are you just going to keep me in your nasty cave until sunrise?”

Crowley laughs and pulls Aziraphale closer to him, making all of the petulance evaporate with a kiss. Judging by the intensity of the kiss, Aziraphale knows that Crowley needed it as much as he had. He allows himself to luxuriate in the meeting of lips, the touch of Crowley’s tongue, the way his hips press forward searching for contact with Crowley’s body until they are wrapped together in a tangle of arms and legs and hearts that must defy gravity in order to stay upright.

Finally, Crowley pulls away enough to answer Aziraphale’s question.

“I thought I might keep you here and fuck you until sunrise just to see how you walk out of here.”

Aziraphale finds himself being taken by the wrist and led into the dark recesses at the back of the cave, Crowley walking ahead with a confidence that puts Aziraphale’s anxious concerns at ease. The dark envelopes them as they walk for what feels like miles and then, when Aziraphale feels like sound and life must be forbidden, Crowley opens a door and the golden sunlight of early evening floods in.

“The cave is just for snake stuff,” Crowley says as he ushers Aziraphale into a comfortably decorated room, “I live in town the rest of the time. I’m not an animal.” He pauses and frowns. “Well, I suppose I am, but not like that. Oh, you know what I mean.”

Aziraphale smiles and kisses him, as much to silence his out-of-control mouth as to enjoy kissing him. Crowley’s hands alight at Aziraphale’s waist, his long fingers stroking the bare skin in a way that makes Aziraphale shiver with delight. Slowly, Aziraphale is urged backwards until the backs of his legs meet the edge of a bed and Crowley kisses him down onto it.

“I’m going to make you see stars, angel,” Crowley murmurs against Aziraphale’s throat as his kisses trail lower and his hand closes around the hardening length of Aziraphale’s cock.

Hours later, Aziraphale has seen stars and galaxies and something like the edge of the universe. He’s lost count of how many times he’s climaxed, the pleasure having long since taken on an edge of desperation. Still, Crowley is above him, his forehead pressed between Aziraphale’s shoulder blades, as he fucks into him. Sweat drips onto Aziraphale’s skin and he can barely hold himself in place for Crowley, it’s too much and yet he knows he’s going to come again. He grinds his aching, leaking cock into the mattress and whimpers as Crowley sinks his teeth into the muscle of Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Crowley grunts as he finds his pleasure once more, spilling into Aziraphale’s spasming hole without slowing the pace of his thrusts at all.

“One more for me, angel, give me one more,” Crowley pleads.

There’s a smudge of light on the far horizon and Aziraphale’s been pointedly ignoring it for several minutes. With monumental effort, Aziraphale raises his hips, allowing Crowley’s hand to slither under him and grasp at his painfully hard cock. He focuses on the pleasure of Crowley’s hand, the feeling of fullness, the desperate little kisses making constellations across his back. With a whine and a full body shudder, Aziraphale comes onto Crowley’s fingers.

Crowley all but collapses on top of him, still inside but no longer moving, exhausted. Aziraphale holds himself up until Crowley’s hand is out from under him and then slumps as well. Come-slick fingers brush his lips until he opens his mouth and sucks them clean.

Dimly, as if it’s happening far away, Aziraphale can feel Crowley twitching and withdrawing from him but the fullness doesn’t abate, no flood of fluids rush down his thighs.

“A mating plug?” he asks, as soon as Crowley’s fingers are clear of his mouth.

“You don’t like it?” Crowley seems unsure now.

Aziraphale reaches behind him to scoop Crowley to his side and into a loose embrace.

“I adore it, you clever thing,” Aziraphale says before kissing him.

They lie in comfortable silence for a moment.

“Sunrise,” Crowley says flatly.

“I know,” Aziraphale responds. “I think you’re done having your wicked way with me,” he softens his words with a squeeze around Crowley’s waist, “there’s nothing to say I can’t stay and recuperate a while.”

Crowley laughs softly and snuggles closer.

“You know,” he begins carefully, tracing abstract shapes on Aziraphale’s chest with one finger, “we really don’t need this whole pantomime if you want this sort of thing. I’d give it to you anyway.”

Aziraphale sighs softly and sadly, pressing a kiss into Crowley’s hair.

“I know you would. Just like I know you weren’t eating any of those sacrifice victims before me.”

Crowley groans and hides his face.

“Do you know how much trouble it is to find a new hero to rescue the helpless sacrifice every month? Sometimes I’d just let them go, no one wanted to go back to the city that was happy to feed them to a monster. Never hurt any of them.” Crowley sounds faintly hurt, like “monster” is a label he’s had too many times.

“I’m sorry, I just worry about you. It won’t always be like this.” Aziraphale says it to reassure himself as much as Crowley.

With a little non-committal noise, Crowley reaches up to kiss Aziraphale again. And it won’t always be like this. It won’t.

  
  



End file.
